


A Haunting We Will Go

by calliopes_pen



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-01
Updated: 2008-01-01
Packaged: 2018-12-04 06:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11549133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calliopes_pen/pseuds/calliopes_pen
Summary: The Master is haunting the TARDIS, and causing a bit of harmless mayhem for Martha, Jack, and the Doctor.





	A Haunting We Will Go

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested by elliptic_eye, as a sequel to the drabble where the Doctor and Martha play with a ouija board, and get the Master by mistake.

It had been a week since Jack had pulled his little astral body stunt, and since the Master had popped up due to them playing around with a ouija board. And in that time, the dead man had managed to become bored with having lyrics from Scissor Sisters songs appear randomly on the walls, and shelves to fall over, and had progressed to other methods of torment.

With the Master’s attention span, the ouija board had quickly lost its charm--as did making the aforementioned Scissor Sisters songs appear in what looked to be blood from a distance…until they performed tests (i.e.--the Doctor licked it, while Martha and Jack looked on in disgust) and realized it was actually written in strawberry jam. Apparently, the Master insisted on having a sick sense of humor, even in death.

Shaking his head, the Doctor grabbed a towel, wiping the last remnants of a bowl of soup that had been dropped over him minutes earlier. He grimaced as he picked a slice of carrot out of his hair, and wondered what else the Master could possibly do in spirit form.

_“Rassilon’s fuzzy slippers, but you’re gorgeous naked! If only I had solid hands!”_

There was _that_ , naturally, The Doctor realized as he took off his glasses and wearily rubbed his eyes. Martha’s shriek brought to mind another aspect of the haunting that he had briefly (and gratefully) forgotten--the Master had learned how to appear as a barely visible spirit, just long enough to scare the metaphorical pants off of anyone in the middle of a shower.

He also provided some rather lewd commentary--commentary that Jack actually seemed to _enjoy_ whenever it happened when _he_ was in the shower. Who knew Jack would enjoy flirting with the ghost of someone that had once tortured him? Then again, the Master _had_ apparently begun to share embarrassing details of his and the Doctor’s childhood escapades, presumably for blackmail purposes.

When Martha angrily padded out of the bathroom moments later wearing only a towel, the Doctor stared at the ceiling in defeat, and sank into the nearby captain’s chair before rubbing his face. The TARDIS hummed in a mixture of amusement and concern, and he tossed a thought of _‘traitor’_ at her. Her trilling increased, as it didn’t bother her in the slightest.

“I don’t care if he _is_ the ghost of your ex-best friend and mortal enemy, Doctor…I’m calling an exorcist or UNIT if he’s not out of here in the next two weeks. I’m sick of being felt up by a dead man!” After a pause, Martha looked over to where Jack stood. “No offense, Jack.”

Jack raised an eyebrow in amusement, and grinned. “None taken, milady.”

Judging by the amused laughter bouncing off the walls, the Master didn’t seem to care whether he was exorcised from the TARDIS or not. He would just follow the trio wherever they went, if he could.

The Doctor looked around the room, before shaking his head and noticing the ouija board had vanished from the room. Again. “Oh, _Master_? If you don’t want to use the ouija board anymore, and you don’t want to speak to me, why don’t you use the chalkboard I found?”

The chalk on the newly set up board began moving by itself, slowly spelling out something in Gallifreyan before clattering to the ground. The Doctor leaned over, reading it to himself and making a shocked sound, before quickly erasing it, and glaring at the room. “Now, that’s just _rude_!”

Jack moved to the middle of the room, and gestured dramatically while the other two stared in confusion. Finally, he said in an amused and seductive voice, “The power of flirting _compels_ you! Leave this place.”

The other two collapsed into laughter, the tension broken, as Jack shrugged. “Had to try.”

Well, _three_ actually collapsed in laughter if you count the Master’s disembodied and vaguely hysterical chortling. The chalk rose again, and Jack hurried over to read the board with a huge grin. “He says he might take me up on my offer if he ever comes back from the dead...because he’s seen me naked!”

Martha rolled her eyes, and fondly grinned. “Jack Harkness. Seducer of the Deceased. Why am I _not_ surprised?” After a moment, she leaned over and whispered in his ear with just a hint of flirting, “Those still alive are a far better option.” Jack grinned, making a note to buy her a drink the next time they stopped off anywhere.  
  
The Doctor put his feet on the console, trying to relax and ignore the madness for a moment. He muttered wearily, “At least he doesn’t want us to build an android body for him, and isn’t trying to possess anyone. Again.” He had his sonic screwdriver in his hands now, and was idly flipping it into the air, and catching it again.

Naturally, the Master couldn’t leave that comment well enough alone, and the chalk rose again. Distractedly, the Doctor called over, “What’s it say, Jack? _Please_ don’t let it be more details of his former love life.”

“He wants to know if you’ll build him one. An android body. He says he’ll ask nicely, and will only use his powers for evil…no, _wait._ ” Jack held up a hand, giving the Master a moment.

“Evil is being scratched out, and replaced with…‘morally grey things.’” Jack scrunched his nose in annoyance, and watched as everything was erased, and more was written. “He also says he doesn’t want to possess any Americans again, and he didn’t like being a slug, whatever _that_ means.” As that, too, was erased, the Master managed to levitate the erasers and hit them together, causing Jack to choke and stagger away with a glare.

Martha had a sudden thought, asking, “If we burned the ouija board, would he leave?”

The Doctor made a few ridiculous faces, as he tried to think of an answer. Finally, he halfheartedly rambled, “Mmm...the doors between dimensions are open, and his ectoplasmic fluid is all runny like an uncooked egg, which could ruin things.”

Martha stared, Jack raised an eyebrow, and the chalk fell as the Master seemed to both give up on tormenting him, and wonder what it all meant.

“In other words, I haven’t the _foggiest_ notion. I’m just making things up on the fly, since _someone_ won’t let me have the required 10 minutes of sleep allotted for a Time Lord to function!”

The evil giggle coming from the other side of the room made it clear as to why. The Doctor rubbed his face, and ran his hands through his hair again, wondering what they could possibly do.  
\--

The next day passed with the three trying to brainstorm, with little accomplished. The Master was strangely quiet during this time, leading them to believe he may have sensed they were on to something, and was shaking in his nonexistent boots.

Naturally, they were wrong.

Their attempts at a solution became hurried after night fell and brought about a unique karaoke performance of the classic Gallifreyan hit _I’m Too Sexy For This TARDIS_ from the Master. Jack was horrified when he later learned that the Master had learned how to possess people when he was bored, and _he_ was the one stripping to the song.

The Doctor had it all on tape for posterity, making this a new humiliating moment for the Immortal. While it wasn’t the stripping that did the trick, but it was the off-key singing, and prancing about.

The Doctor didn’t find things _quite_ as funny the morning after, when he awoke dressed in a tutu and neon orange stilettos, with Martha and Jack watching him with wide, frightened eyes. Bemused, he dashed into another room, shouting, “Right, not so funny now! Ever so sorry! I’ll think of something!”

Jack shouted back, “That would be more reassuring if it wasn’t coming from a Time Lord that looked like a _ballerina dominatrix_!” Martha nearly choked, laughing in her hand. Jack rubbed her back slowly and kneaded her shoulders, until she swatted him playfully. Her eyes glittered, and she whispered with an odd look, “If I happen to sing and dance and jump you for some reason tonight, it’s not me. At least not _yet_. Got that?” He grinned. “Got it, babe.”  
  
Nothing occurred until midnight, when the Doctor and Jack heard a small shriek. Jack skidded to a stop at her room first, shouting, “What happened?!”

Martha was obviously nearing the end of her patience as she turned from her place on the bed to face them. “He _goosed_ me, Doctor. He goosed me, _and_ he slimed me! I…think he just wants to watch me take a shower again.” When Jack waggled his eyebrows and the Doctor grinned, Martha threw her pillow at them, and smirked.

When the Master cackled quietly near her ear, she rolled her eyes, muttering, “Perverts, the lot of you. Out! And build a ghost trap or something while you’re at it!”

The Doctor turned to leave with a grin that oozed his belief in his own brilliance, and before noticing that Jack was continuing to stare at the barely dressed Martha. He rolled his eyes in amusement, and grabbed Jack’s ear, saying, “Oi! Come on, you! Let’s leave the woman a _little_ bit of peace.” The Doctor waved with his free hand, and the last Martha saw of him was a sheepish grin and a halfhearted shrug that basically said, ‘what can you do.’

Suddenly, Martha had an idea, and smirked as the other two men left the room. She looked around the room, hoping the Master hadn’t left--but then again, why _would_ he leave when he was after his own little peep show? “Master? Would you like it if my Mum got on board the TARDIS? She would have quite a few choice words for you, you know. Especially after being stuck on the Valiant with you for a year… _and_ if she knew you were watching me in the shower.”

Martha paused, to let the thinly veiled threat sink in. When there was a longer silence than there should have been, she prepared to get up--only to notice a quick message appear on the wall. “You’re listening, huh? I hope you’ll be _scrubbing_ that wall when we’re done talking. Here’s the deal…”

And so it was that when it was all over, the Master--despite being a ghost, and therefore immune to any and all death threats, especially those involving Francine--avoided Martha’s room, for the rest of his time haunting the TARDIS.  
\--

One day and three hours later, the Master’s stay came to an end, all thanks to Martha Jones having become an excellent negotiator.

“What did you do? What made him leave?”

Martha leaned back in her chair, and grinned. After a quick scan of the TARDIS verified that the Master was indeed gone, and that there didn’t happen to be a mysterious ring anywhere around, the Doctor had gone from glee to worry and straight into curiosity. Jack was still worried, occasionally glancing around nervously--seemingly waiting for the day when he would be forced to re-enact the Sweet Transvestite song--that had been the Master’s final act before leaving.

“Well, we had a deal. I wouldn’t call in my mother _and_ UNIT, or convince you to build a ghost trap. And he could possess Jack one last time to fulfill his lifelong dream of acting out something from the _Rocky Horror Picture Show._ ” She raised one eyebrow before continuing. “Apparently, it was the one thing he never thought of doing on the _Valiant_.”

She frowned and looked a little weirded out. “He said Lucy wouldn’t let him borrow her clothes.”

The Doctor rubbed his hands in glee, before grabbing Martha and spinning her around the room. “Martha Jones, you are a genius! Possibly an evil mastermind, too, but it doesn’t matter right now. He won’t be replacing my shaving cream with pepper spray or dressing me in French maid uniforms again!”

He put her down, clapped his hands, and proceeded to do a little dance that confirmed Martha’s theory that he should never have been taught the Macarena, _or_ the Twist. Her contemplation of the sight was disturbed as Jack grabbed her from behind, just to get in a little spinning action of his own. “If you don’t stop soon, Jack, I’ll find another ouija board.”

He couldn’t put her down fast enough. However, before he let go, he whispered in her ear, “That’s twice you’ve stopped the Master, Martha, and I _think_ you deserve a little treat. How about _dancing_ …followed by a little dessert?”

His hopeful look could bring grown men to their knees, and Martha slowly smiled a cat that ate the canary grin, before putting her hand on his chest, and whispering into his ear. “Agreed…but first I think you should change out of what the Master made you wear.

Jack chuckled, still slightly disturbed at being dressed like Frank N. Furter. “Deal. See you in 30 minutes? Candles, okay?”

As Martha walked away toward her own room to change, she turned back with her hand on the doorknob. “It’s a deal, Mister. See you later.”

_Finis_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ausmac for beta reading.


End file.
